


bread and beautiful illyrians

by Littlelionman15



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baking, Book 2: A Court of Mist and Fury, Book 3: A Court of Wings and Ruin, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Dorks in Love, F/M, Flowers, Healing, Idiots in Love, Multi, Post-A Court of Thorns and Roses, Spoilers for Book 3.5: A Court of Frost and Starlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27887248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlelionman15/pseuds/Littlelionman15
Summary: cooking au in which cassian and rhys ask elain to teach them how to cook; cassian wants to surprise nesta, and rhys wants to prove himself to feyre.
Relationships: Amren & Nesta Archeron, Amren & Rhysand (ACoTaR), Azriel & Cassian & Rhysand (ACoTaR), Cassian & Morrigan (ACoTaR), Cassian & Rhysand (ACoTaR), Elain Archeron & Azriel, Elain Archeron & Feyre Archeron, Elain Archeron & Feyre Archeron & Nesta Archeron, Elain Archeron & Nesta Archeron, Elain Archeron/Azriel, Feyre Archeron & Cassian, Feyre Archeron & Cassian & Morrigan, Feyre Archeron & Morrigan, Feyre Archeron & Nesta Archeron, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron & Cassian, Nesta Archeron & Everyone, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	bread and beautiful illyrians

**Author's Note:**

> hi there and thanks for opening my fic!
> 
> i've had a lot of fun writing this one - everything seemed to come so naturally, idk how to explain it with anything other than the fact that this was one of those ideas that i just *had* to turn into a fic, so i let it go in its own way. 
> 
> have lots of fun reading this little thing! if you like it, please leave feedback - anything and everything, ranging from complaints to kind words, is welcome and much appreciated ❤
> 
> have a great day, my dear! 💛

Elain Archeron had been working in the kitchen since early morning. It’d been the only place besides the garden where she felt most at home – whatever home meant nowadays.

Adjusting to everything was still an ongoing and hard, draining process; even though it’d been almost half a year ago, she’d still catch herself dreaming of the life she was promised as a human – marrying Grayson, bearing children and beginning a family of her own, a family at which her father could look with pride in his eyes – a family of her own, which would be blessed by two beautiful aunts that were as different to one another as the sky was to the earth, but would nevertheless go to the ends of the world itself for each other.

That was a beautiful dream – and that was all it would remain, for the gods had different plans for her: her father was gone, and Grayson hated her for what she’d been made into; the idea of a family of their own was long lost to him now.

Although the harsh reality hurt, to the point where there’d be nights when she cries herself to sleep silently enough for not even her Fae ears to notice, some things were better now than they were before.

Feyre’s new family – the group of these powerful, brilliant Fae males and females of whose beauty, kindness and grace thousands of poems could be written – accepted her and Nesta fully now, despite the rough beginning.

She’d been reminded of that acceptance this morning, as she looked at the kitchen counter looking for the flour – there’d been a vase of beautiful, soft-to-touch moonflowers atop of it. Drops of the morning dew in Velaris still rested on the soft petals that bore the same color as her apron.

Elain smiled each time she’d look at them; she knew exactly who had taken his time so early to pluck them and arrange them so beautifully on the counter where the sun beamed into the city house’s kitchen.   
As the seer thanked him with a gentle kiss on his silky cheek, the shadows that always dance around him seemed to flicker, a shade of pink similar to the flowers painting his cheeks when she pulled back.

That little smile on his face – the one that brightened that gods-gifted face and scared away the worries and the weight of the whole world that he seemed to carry on his shoulders, if even for a few seconds – still lingered in her memory when she heard footsteps waltzing into the kitchen.

 _A small battalion_ was the best description for the two Illyrians, with their broad shoulders and radiant presence, which entered the kitchen, along with one of the most stunning, divine even, females she’d ever seen.

“Hello, Elain” one of the Illyrians spoke, that handsome face devilish as ever. She felt her sister’s scent on him, and it made her heart dance a little faster.

“Good morning, Cassian” she said sweetly. He brushed his calloused fingers against his ear, tucking in the runaway strand of hair that escaped the messy bun at the back of his head.   
Grateful – she was grateful to him for being there for Nesta, even on the days when Elain herself had thought there was nothing left of her sister after the war had ended.

“We kind of…” her other sister’s mate began speaking, that comforting voice as melodic as ever, “need your help.”

Feyre chuckled, resting her head on his shoulder. “The bat-boys want to learn how to cook.”

Cassian’s glistening eyes told her what Feyre didn’t – they came here for that reason; came to her to teach them.

Elain’s eyebrows lifted before she could think of a proper reaction, and so did her words when she, with a gaping mouth, said: “And you think that I can help?” 

She blushed as the two males exchanged glances. It was Rhys who spoke first.

“My beautiful mate” he leaned his head on Feyre’s, nesting his cheek atop of her golden-brown curls, “always keeps teasing me how I can’t cook without my powers.”

“He tried once” the High Lady spoke, “and all I’ll say is that we later thanked the Mother that I’d brought my bow and quiver on that trip.”

Looking at them made something in her chest spark up. She’d know that feeling – that endless love; she’d felt it with Grayson, and then it drowned in those dark waters of the Cauldron, but lately… it’d been reignited by a certain shadowsinger.

“They’re more here for moral support” Cassian said, biting his nails. The Night Court’s famed general, brave and courageous, was in her kitchen, biting his nails like one of the noble girls she’d seen on the markets in her village. “Rhysie, that is – Feyre is here mostly to mock us, I believe.”

“Well” she says, a broad and beautiful smile atop of her sun-kissed face, “Mor asked me to, since she can’t be here herself, and please, Cassian, I was running out of things to tease my favorite sensitive Illyrians about anyways.” 

The High Lord chuckles, “Isn’t she just a delightful, little gift from the gods themselves?”

Elain laughs along with Cassian as Feyre sends her thoughts down the mating bond, and the High Lord’s cheeks turn even more saturated than Azriel’s this morning.

“How can I help, then?” she asks, already preparing herself for the mess this would be – they could ask Nuala and Cerridwen; they _should_ , since she was never one to be good at explaining, and they were warriors, trained to fight living, dangerous opponents, not unruly dough.

“Nesta has lately developed a liking for fondue.” Cassian proclaims with his hands at the edges of the chair before him, and a devilish spark in his eyes at the thought of her sister.

She didn’t know everything that happened between the two in those Illyrian war-camps, but gods above, she was grateful for it; not only had Nesta returned as the brilliant, beautiful woman she was before life had taken its toll on her – she returned as someone even brighter, a queen in her own right.

“So I was thinking you could teach me a thing or two on how to make the bread and the cheese, if you don’t have any other plans for today? Tomorrow works for me too.”

Elain Archeron smiled faintly at the general she’d now command in her own war-camp: the kitchen. “For the beginning, put an apron on – you don’t want flour on those black clothes of yours.”

Cassian grinned broadly, and extended a hand to his brother – Prythian’s best warriors were clapping hands and chuckling at the thought of making bread. Gods, these lands truly held fascinating discoveries.

Feyre kissed her mate quickly, heat rising to his cheeks as she was tying the apron on his back; he then squealed as she pinched him below the perfect knot she’d made. Cassian and Elain laughed as she helped him put on an apron as well.

When the High Lady had poured herself a glass of wine and taken seat at the head of the table with her legs crossed and amusement written all over her beautiful face, Elain had begun the lesson.

“Do you know how to activate the yeast?” she asked them, and the brothers exchanged glances.

“Isn’t that a fungus?” Rhys asked, and to contain her full reaction, Elain turned to Feyre with a barely suppressed laugh.

The High Lady was giggling in her chair. “Oh, Mor is going to love this!”

Nesta, Morrigan and Amren were training at the House of Wind each afternoon lately.

Nesta and Mor had taken it upon themselves, along with Feyre on some days, to teach the citizens of Velaris the basics of self-defense, in case anything like the attack from Hybern happened again. Rhysand was delighted at his cousin’s idea the other night while they had dinner together, but Morrigan said the idea wasn’t hers – it was Nesta’s.

“This is going to be a long day, huh?” Cassian asked, and Elain nodded. “But we have all the time in the world to make the most of it, so let’s start.”

*

Three breads and numerous glasses of wine later, all four of them were exhausted.

Elain was sweeping the excess flour off of the table while the two Illyrians stirred the cheese in their pots.

“And I thought combat was complicated” Cassian said without lifting his view from the bubbling cheese before him. More strands had escaped his loose bun, so now they kissed his bronze shoulders.

“I thought that about my powers” Rhys admitted, “Cauldron boil me, those were easier to master.”

Feyre was laughing from her spot at the table, and Elain’s heart warmed.   
Seeing her younger sister laugh so sincerely and as heartfelt as she did was one of the many gifts she thanked the gods for – if anyone deserved it, it was her – her who’d given the last six years of her life constantly fighting for everyone she loved.

She’d glanced on the stove, atop of which two little pots were held tightly by the two Illyrians who looked at her with excitement in their eyes.

“That looks perfect” she smiled faintly, and the brothers hand-clapped again, “You can add the pepper any minute now” Elain spoke with the smile on her face warming her tone, and headed back to the table.

“It smells great, too” Feyre noted as she stood up and came to her sister’s side.

“So, I’ve noticed the flowers” she said silently as the males were giggling amongst themselves. “Are they from who I think they are?”

Elain nodded sweetly, and Feyre watched color paint her cheeks as gently and innocently as it had Azriel’s earlier today as well. “He’s a good man.”

“He is” she agreed with her older sister, “and just so you know, Nesta and I started betting on when you two will finally confess to each other what we all already see.”

The seer’s eyes widened as she looked at Feyre. “You two are doing what, exactly?”

Feyre chuckled. “If it happens before the next Winter Solstice, she owes me two pairs of new Illyrian fighting leathers.”

Elain put a hand to her forehead and chuckled as well. “You two truly are a menace together” she said, and when Feyre nodded proudly, she added, “and I love seeing you happy like this.”

“I do, too.” The High Lady confessed, and hugged her sister. “And what dough are you working on, Maestro?”

She laughed, cupping the dough with her gentle hands. “It’s for Azriel – I want to thank him for the flowers with a few cinnamon rolls.”

“Oh, he loves those” Feyre said, “Well, it seems to me that I’ll be getting those fighting leathers rather quickly.”

Elain chuckled once more, wishing for it to be true for the first time in what felt like an eternity.


End file.
